The Lonely
by TheRoadNotTakenRB
Summary: Haru watched the twins, the Sawada twins. Each as different as the sun and the moon, the darkness and light, the sky and the earth. Maybe, she would be part of something, with the barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead, the weight of the world on her shoulders and the chains around her heart. Welcome to the Vongola. Twins, OOC, Dark.
1. Prologue

The Lonely: Prologue

There was never much expected of her, really. So, she tried herself. If anyone asked, her father wanted her to work hard and that he expected the world from her.

It was a lie, she knew. But, one she could get away with, because -well, no one asked.

Sometimes, she wonders what everyone thought of her. But she would laugh, bitterly, one that no one had yet heard. Because it was hidden behind that perfect, oh so perfect wall. That stiff and expensive Midori Middle School uniform, from the tips of her secretly second hand leather shoes, to her dark champagne eyes.

It did not hide her mind, her thoughts unlimited. Her feelings wild.

Who was she kidding, she knew, that she didn't care for their thoughts. That transparent illusion held for her own, built from her inner most maelstroms. So, she did what she did.

Never truly understanding herself, she left naive and lonely. Maybe the reason why she stuck to sewing and costume making was to fill the void of the feminine belief of a mother being the clothe maker. Or that missing role in her life that dug a little deeper into her Frankenstein heart everyday.

Maybe the missing part she insisted she had from the world's view was the reason she spoke in third person for years.

Maybe she was often left alone, ignored unintentionally and self satisfaction was the only _sane_ in her mind. Maybe the reason was, _'I didn't reach out.'_

'_Why would I expect them to talk to me, when I won't do the same?'_

Perhaps, that was the thought in mind when she met Tsunayoshi and his younger twin brother, Takayoshi. It was the whispers that littered the elite school's hallway for her to recognize the tuff of brown hair that was known as Dame-Tsuna.

Finally putting a name to the face after 3 years of being around-the-corner-across-the-street neighbors. She had not thought twins would look so alike yet different. Her hands twitched, urging to itch the spot the tags of her high thick socks reached at the back of her thigh. Years of social etiquette at a prestigious elementary school gave her the bodily control over her impolite urges, still the students had recognized the lone scholarship student.

Both equally possessed wild hair, she peeked at the twins. One chesnut and amber brown, the other, a lighter golden hue that matted the sun's rays. Both petite shaped and size mirrored her own, to her dismay. The blonde, stood tall and grinned brightly whilst the other, the older one, as she was told by the familiar hushed tones of gossip. Whilst the other, slouched like there was no tomorrow.

"It's a beautiful day, Tsuna-san." The blonde shifted and stretched, leading his older brother, "Don't be late again. Hibari-sama might catch you."

Her eyes trailed towards their faces, both fine and delicate features, the blonde's had a more masculine, a stronger feel in his features. Stubborn, stiff and unrelenting.

Her artist's eye roamed the face, a beauty mark in the middle of the cheek and the slight tint of hair separated the twins.

"Good morning!" Startled, the brunette threw herself to the ground. Her hair falling in whorls fanned down she shoulders, a hand holding down her skirt as she sighed. "Are you okay?"

A hand before her, delicate and smooth, much unlike her own. Almost in jealousy, her eyes darted up in accusation, only to soften as she met a deep blue hue of the blonde twin.

Flushing red, "A-ah, yes."

Tentatively taking the hand before her, she stood, her clips and bags gathered. Haru's eyes met the searching eyes soft brown in color, the unique tint one shade before the amber that she always secretly loved, and one shade after the sturdy milk chocolate brown that matted light.

Her thoughts interrupted, "You look prettier with your hair down." Turning towards the nonchalant twin, she blushed. Realizing she had not introduced herself, nor make any notion of thanks towards the blue eyed boy, she flushed deeper.

"H-Haru thanks you, desu." Lately, the verbal tick berated her mind. Always there, the constant, the annoyance, the ever reminder of who you were, the back leg of becoming who you are.

"My name is Takayoshi Sawada, everyone calls me Tamaki. This idiot here," the boy grinned good naturally, curling a thumb towards the trailing boy, "is my brother, Tsunayoshi. Just call him Tsuna. Or Tuna-fish."

"Hmm," a closed mouth grin, "I'm Haru, Muira Haru d-" she cut off. Jerking awkwardly, she grinned stupidly again. "H-haru has to go to school, d-nice to meet you, Takayoshi-san and Tsunayo-" she paused as her eyes connected with the older twin, "Tsuna-san."

She turned swiftly and walked as normal as she could, feeling the weighed gazes behind her.

The wind smelled of cherry blossoms as she settled into her seat, a rich padding of the seat felt rough against the visible strip of skin on her thighs. Pulling out a needle and handkerchief riddled with bits of stitching, she began to think. The chatter never ceased as Haru found herself alone, sitting with yet another book, _The Art of War_ in French.

Sighing as she pulled open the library's book quantities on the computer, all copies were out, except for the remaining lonesome French. Feeling the sudden kinship towards the worn and weathered cloth hard cover, it's faded red material still smooth under her touch, the silver and gold calligraphy had yet to fade away. Weighing it, she smiled, the undying wisdom leaked from the book.

_Well, I have the time._

Haru swung one side of her thick hair behind one shoulder and began, swamped by dictionaries and notebooks, she tucked the thick novel under her desk. Practicing French pretenses through class with her right, she took notes discreetly with her other hand.

"Muira-san." Her head snapped up from its hunched position over her notebook, the class was working on assigned math, glanced at her curiously. A tall, brooding girl stood beside the teacher, hands clutched with a notebook and grubby pencil. "Please solve this equation for us. Don't forget to show your work."

Blinking, she nodded, "Hai, Haru will solve it, desu!" Slipping the dictionaries and books into her desk as she stood up, Haru's hand slipped slyly to close her notebook, eyes before her, the action could easily be covered by the pretense of her brushing her skirt.

Haru eyed the tall brooding blonde before placing a bright smile, genuine and tentative. She scanned the question, her mind brooding about the natural verbal tick that just wouldn't go from the moment she stepped into her school. Her bright facade shown far and wide, the words of genuine concern and thoughts slipped, overlapping with the energy she did not have,_ she hated it._

The girl was striking enough. Bright, platinum blonde, short and jerky that smelled like artificial blueberries as she brushed past the tall female, almost enviously so. Scanning her answer absentmindedly, she knew there was no mistake, she doesn't make those, mistakes, not in math. Haru's eyes deemed the girl's dull green eyes her worst feature compared to the striking and strong bone structure.

"Can you explain it, Haru?" A tired voice tuned through her thoughts, she nodded numbly, eyeing the dullness of her classmate's eyes. Still, flattered that she had been chosen to help, to act as a _model_ even. A unconscious spark of recognition burned forests inside her, and words seem to slip out as she rode the high end of the unspoken praise.

"Haru can tutor her, if she'd like, desu." To her horror she continued, as the dull jade's widened in shock, "Haru would be happy to help another student, desu!"

"That's a great idea,"_ to who?,_ "Too bad Mizuki-chan's not here," the balding woman turned to the girls, "Amari-san, then it is decided. You need your grade up, I will not have you tarnish this class's average. Every day for 2 hours after school, in the library, you will meet Haru and she will tutor you."

The mechanical smile found its way towards her face, and she did, smile. Perhaps that was how Haru found herself waiting for her 'student' after half an hour.

Maybe it was because of the dull light that scared her, when she spotted the death in their green cages.

Maybe it was the unspoken ridicule she had seen for the girl's foreign features, whilst cliques and groups distances themselves further and further away. The inner tug of kinship was formed when Haru watched the girl slip silently away in class.

Or maybe, it was the same type of eyes Tsunayoshi Sawada had in a way that made her pause.

She thought as she scribbled the noted references on her now filled notebook. Cursing as she lost her place in the thick, woody scent dictionary, she quickly scanned the passage again.

"I didn't know you were the swearing type of chick." A deep, smirking -she knew, _she knew_, that the girl was, voice.

"_Hahi_!" she looked up, not sure why she sounded so surprised, Haru had heard the silent steps between her shuffling of paper. "Amari-san, right? Haru's name is Muira Haru, desu." There it was again. That dreaded word, "Why are you late, desu?"

Suddenly, a hand slammed onto the desk, sending the papers Haru had spent time sorting through into a frenzy, setting themselves on the carpet floor. Haru's eyes searched the once dull green, now a cornered and angered matted emerald that dimmed under the chandeliers. Her ears searched for the slightest sound of another student, teacher, _anyone_, in the library.

She didn't.

"Listen here, _bitch_." Her Japanese was odd, too smooth, the hard sounds were often muddled and flowed unintentionally smooth. Like French, the language of love. Or Italian. "You're rich right? Take me to your mansion," a crude smile light up the pretty features, "Give me your money, jewelry, computers and technology. Or _I will end your fucking life._"

Suddenly, she found herself at the receiving end of a barrel. Haru's eyes crossed trying to see past the long barrel, almost like a detachment to the end of the handgun. The cool metal pressed into her forehead, she shifted slowly, her body facing the girl, who shook and twitched, Haru couldn't tell from anger or anxiety, she didn't know.

Sighing, she heard the cock of the safety snapping off with a click. She closed her eyes."I'm fucking serious."

_No_, you're not. Haru wanted to say.

"Give me a minute." She managed to mutter, her hands gripping each other tightly.

"Tch. _Pathetic_." The darkness sneered, before a slew of foreign language filled her ears. Smooth, flowing and passionate, few nouns she thought she recognized in French. Haru almost laughed, was she really thinking of this?

_I'm going to die._ The half truth.

_I am going to regret._ The whole truth.

_No one will miss me._ The thought.

_No one knew me._ The blatant truth.

_I am okay with that._ The lie.

Her eyes opened, blinking from the blackness, the barrel of the gun had drifted to her right eye. Just as Amari noticed her eyes to be opened, it shifted to the center of her forehead once again.

"Was that Italian?" She asked softy, staring straight into those dark eyes, those torment too ugly to be in that shade.

They both knew the lie of this situation. Yet neither would expose the other of the reality before them. The first, too broken and afraid, the other, too seeing and intuitive.

"Yes."

"What will you do after?" The gun had not wavered, the barrel now warm from her body heat.

"Live." A flash and suddenly Haru hated her, she hated the unreasonable whims and thread of hope that lied in the gunner's eyes.

"That's a lie." A hand found itself around her throat, Haru's mind fluttered about her father, his future, his inability to cook or clean clothes. She briefly wondered of the taboo question she was always too afraid to ask about her mother, about how he had that terrible habit of cooking for one. About the brief talks of him and his math class, the troublemaking kids and the rough gems he had seen.

"That is _not_ a fucking lie, you bitch!" Haru's eyes scanned the angry face, hot tears flowed silently on her face. She eyed the girl, she was pretty even through that. "That is not a fucking lie! You bitch! That is not, it's not a fucking lie. You son of a bitch. You ***fottuta puttana , tu non mi conosci**!"

She was slammed into the desk, it cut sharply against her back. Haru felt the hand loosen, the click of the safety of a gun on. Her drowsy attention toward the hyperventilating blonde.

"Oh ***mio dio**! Oh my god. I have to kill you." A pause, the girl collapsed onto her knees, "I have to kill you. Or you'll kill me. Or _they'll_ get me."

Amari looked hauntingly pretty, the dark and lost look scared Haru, it chilled her further to the bone. Maniac and ruthless, as she was thrown against the desk again, sobbing. "Shut up! I have to kill you. I can't believe this, I _have_ to kill you. Or-or you'll tell them-_no_! They'll find you. They'll find you. _No_, I can't have that. No, I can't. I _can't_ have it."

The gun shook, with both hands grasped on the hilt tightly, Haru struggled against unconsciousness. Shoving herself up, she blinked at the girl, "Who's going to kill you?" She rasped.

"_You_! You're going to kill me!" Her golden mane wild, like the look in her eyes, "If I don't kill you, you're going to kill me."

With her half concious mind, she concluded that Amari was not mentally sane in any shape, way or form. With the patience reserved for her babysitting duties, Haru began in a soft, claiming tone, clutching the warm liquid blooming from her side, she dared not to look. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to kill you." She let it sink in, "Who wants to kill you?"

Wide, tear-filled eyes suddenly filled with emotion. Haru wasn't sure how to feel about the child-toddler like actions of a teen, she leaned against the thick desk, feeling it shift slightly from her weight, she continued. "I'm not going to ever. _Ever_. sell you out. Who wants you hurt?"

Suppressing a cough, she doubt she would be able to stop had she not suppress it.

And it came pouring out. Between the blubbers and the wailing, Haru managed to slide the gun towards her, until she sat on it. It's imprint firmly under her high thighs, she listened.

Unfortunately, the words seem to jumble, the girl reverted into her home tongue, sending waves of fluid Italian towards the semi-conscious Haru. Catching the few and many, 'mafia', 'run', test', and the occasional japanese sound effects. Haru slumped forward, much to the horror of the other girl, who caught sight of the blooming bruises and the rich, warm blood.

* * *

The was too bright.

The sky was too clear.

Everything to too happy for one Tsunayoshi Sawada, as he slumped against the back alley of the large garbage bin. A harrowing cough rattled his body, he smiled. The only default emotion he had to feel alive, he eyed the clouds with distaste.

He only began to pull himself home when the sun had set, working efficiently and quickly to gather his scattered things, hiding the right injuries and finding his way home.

His brown hair was matted and scattered with bits of garbage, he frowned. Recalling the menu for dinner, his stomach roared in protest, it was his favorite tonight. He knew better than to expect leftovers, it was his brother's favorite too.

Walking inside silently, he paused at the kitchen. Scanning the polished counters and sink, there was no sign of food. Deciding to deal with it later, Tsuna trudged up stairs silently, to shower and bandage himself.

"Tsuna-san?" The brown haired twin threw himself into the bathroom, but still not yet escaping the eyes of his younger brother. "I'll get you some left overs."

Empty.

Empty words.

Pretty words.

"O-okay." He knew, his brother did not like being alone. Tsuna recalled the groups of friends that always surrounded Tamaki, none knew the fear of self of their oh so fearless leader.

Tsuna also knew, as open and warm Tamaki may be, it will never touch someone's heart, it will never connect to their soul. Because Tamaki didn't reach, he didn't grab ahold of the emotion, and because he didn't care.

He stripped and showered, the hot water stained his skin red, the blooming bruises and cuts stung sharply. Numb under the harsh shower of water, he breathed in deeply. The steam made him drowsy, eyeing the deep burgundy colored water at his feet in distaste, he shampooed and quickly staggered into his room.

Tossing the bloodied shirt in the trash, the fabric missed and landed on the floor, he paused. Staring at the now ratted piece of cloth that was once blue and his favorite shirt.

"Tsuna-san, it's ready downstairs." A voice, his brother, through the thin wooden door.

Tsuna raised his hand to open the door, only to sight the diluted blood trailing down his hands onto the smooth wooden floor. Quickly and efficiently, he wrapped his arms, torso and legs with clean linen from a compartment under his desk. A thin layer of cleansing and infection paste stung and stuck the smooth linen to his body.

Walking out, his brother sat at the table before his hot meal, textbooks and notebooks scattered about. Tsuna's sore body approached the table and quickly munched on the food, studying his brother.

"Mama's asleep." Tsuna nodded in response. "I have homework to do."

He never really got to look at his twin, not really. Maybe it was fascination, he stared. The minuscule differences no one would notice but himself, the slight parting of the hair, the stronger jaw line, the slight inclination of the ridge of the nose.

It was difficult, he found. To look at his brother.

"Stop looking at me, Tsuna-san." Soft brown eyes met a cool blue, the silent accusation startlingly contrasted against the smile.

"I'm going to b-bed." Tsuna mumbled, "Thank you."

"Me too." A grin, "It's been a long day, eh? I have to get my beauty sleep!" He chuckled, the sound fell and held no humor. The words, to Tsuna was tasteless and bland.

A glance out the window, he caught sight of a plane, it's bright lights flashing among the indigo sky. Tripping on the stair, he tumbled down, his brother calmly stepped over him, in a chiding tone, "You should be careful sometimes."

Tsuna laid there, feet sprawled on the stair steps and gazed up at the dimming sight of a pale ceiling. The cold smiled at him, the bitter cotton of his clothes rubbed a comforting feel onto his skin. A slight breeze, one would say chilly, but as past experience with coldness, Tsuna relished in the slight warmth.

He heard the sharp tone of a chair shoved back, heavy steps above him. Ah, his room is right on top.

Closing his eyes, he laid there.

Beneath the feet of his brother, he slept.

* * *

Truthfully, it was hard to feel much anymore. With his renowned title, achievements and earnings, it was hard to see a different perspective. Then there was that. That curse he never asked for, the burden he held around his neck like a collar on a dog.

Yes, the Greatest Hitman in the World felt like a dog.

To feel inhuman, to have no control over it.

He hated it.

It was gone, but it wasn't as if he did not treasure it, rather never expected it to be gone. So yes, it was hard to feel.

Slimming through a stack of letters as the private plane hummed through the air, a weary grin atop his pouty mouth as he sighted a letter from his former student, a golden horse emblem shone under the light.

His face turned somber, rather a feeling than of expression, with a finger he stroked his companion as it turned into a letter opener. The stiff paper, the royal gold emblem that flashed on reflection was the work of one external advisor.

If you asked him of his thoughts on the Vongola, you would not live to tell, if you had asked about a certain Iemitsu Sawada, you would not live to finish your question.

Perhaps it is the man with everything and nothing at the same time that irritated him, that churned his corners with anger and spite. The man with a wife, children and a decent standing and still had .

No, it wasn't jealousy, he was far too above to feel that for a small man, it was anger. The thought of the audacity to waste the precious that people would die for, it disgusted him.

Perhaps a lesser man would come to acknowledge the impossible, but Reborn strived for it. He wanted the choice, the opportunity, may he never take it, but the chance to.

To become a father.

To feel love.

It was a lie to say he needed those things, even more so, if you said he wasn't selfish.

Reborn was a selfish man, one do not prioritize themselves behind others if they wanted to go far. Perhaps it was the inner selfishness to cash in the favor, to feel responsible, to teach, a certain boy.

Reborn knew, that Iemitsu Sawada was hiding. The facade and limbo of flamboyancy and joy was a cover of what he could never have. What the man would never get, and had it been Reborn, maybe even, never want. Still, the man second only to Nono during crisis irritated Reborn.

The few that had the inner flame burn at the sight, each word that the man spat of his family, of his darling son, and of his terrible life.

And so, there he sat, under the champagne colored light of his private plane, weapons astray and classic music softly guided his mood.

Two images.

Both of the children, through the years, several pages of information and detail of each. One, chosen; the other, cast aside.

Obsidian eyes scanned the documents, clearly seeing the preference of the twins. He frowned, to inherit and maintain with balance of the teetering structures of a mafia could not be traded amongst twins.

Two boys, both scrawny and gangly. Wild hair and similar facial features, one more feminine than the other. A blonde with a beauty mark separated the two, with a brunette and doe eyes, the other.

He studied the gazes of the brothers, one was a calm unwavering coolness that held not compassion but resolve, cold resolve. The other, a fire that has not been kindled nor loved, yet it's embers survives. Cocking a gun on habit, he paused, placing the gun down and stoking his companion. Only for Leon to transform into a high-tech phone, jamming an intricate password as one message displayed upon its screen.

He stared, cursing loudly. Checking the time left until landing, he tossed the phone across the plane. Had it been anyone else, it would've shook their world, overturned their plans, and trashed their goal. But Reborn was not anyone.

Still, a setback.

He needed to reach Namimori quickly, and quietly. Things have begun faster than predicted. Tossing his fedora aside, he rubbed his temples, a headache indeed.

* * *

_Reborn,_

_Takayoshi Sawada is missing, presumed dead. Sniper, body removed. _

_He is dead._

* * *

***Fottuta puttana , tu non mi conosci**  
_Fucking whore, you do not know me._

***Mio dio**  
_My God_

* * *

**Hello!**

**so, pairings, there's a poll. **

**It is based on Haru Miura, and I feel like I really want to challenge myself and take it to another level. Take this annoying yet unique (special) girl into something different. **

**Thank you! **

**please, review, follow or message me!**

**_M._**


	2. 1: Reality

_The Lonely One. Reality._

The sun stayed hidden behind the churning storm clouds, drifting, a silent warning bearing over the head moods below. The sky mourned, a greyed colour that faded into the clouds, silently observing and gazing over the crowds below.

The neck tie bit into Tsuna's neck, the stiff collars left angry red lines on his skin as he turned. Often to expect to see the silent half step of his brother, the uneasy and crooked grin of his socially adept brother.

His mother's hand laid upon the crook of his elbow gently, pulling away, he turned to face the slow moving crowd. A sudden wetness on his cheeks, a slow gaze up towards the tearing sky as the gentle rain pitied him. Washing away and hiding the tears.

If only there were.

A hand appeared on his shoulder, Tsuna did not turn, his eyes seem to grow as he gazed past the students that clambered up the gentle hill towards the buriel. Sliding both hands inside his pockets, he tried to smile. An insufficient grim twist of his mouth, it settled into a frown.

"Sawada-san, your mother asked me to get you out of the rain, you're going to get sick." Kyoko Sasagawa, a sweet and gentle voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Ohayo, Kyoko-chan." He turned and offered a lame shrug and tilt of his mouth, his hair still heavy from the gentle droplets resting upon his head.

Without words, the girl reached forward to capture the surprised boy into a hug.

Her arms wrapped around his dark suit tightly, the fabric smooth and cool under the drops of rain. His arms wrapped tentatively around her, face hot. Still not yet a smile, it was a start.

"It's going to be okay." She murmured, "Lets get out of the rain, Tsuna-kun."

Tsuna allowed himself to follow numbly behind the pretty girl, a small stab of guilt as she stood dripping wet like him, only to be deflected off his numb heart. Unable to look at his mother, he sat beside her. The ceremony began, the flowers and the sutra recited. With blank eyes, Tsuna watched the guests bow low, offer him the condolence money* and eyes melt into understanding as he declined.

His mother, Nana had politely shuffled the pile into her handbag. He dared not look at her face, he dared not to see the tomb stone.

Tsuna watched the sky as a child approached him.

"Tsunayoshi Sawada." The child said, Tsuna's eyes betrayed him. Still gazing at the sky, unable to turn away. He was entranced with the vibrant hue of grey that felt like home.

"Tsunayoshi Sawada." The child repeated, this time, he heard. Tsuna bowed his head to see a toddler, the air felt old. He frowned, the only expression you'd find on his face these days. "I would like to talk to you, privately."

Tsuna fingered his crumpled and dirtied cuff of his suit, nodding and followed the odd toddler. "Where's your mother? Father? They must be missing you."

He frowned, didn't recognizing the child. Passing the thought off as a kid Tamaki used to know, or maybe parents even.

"Dead."

Tsuna's blood ran cold, he froze. That word triggered something, the wound was still too fresh to be noted so soon. Fear crept up his spine, "Who are you?"

"My name is Reborn," a fedora appears upon his sticky black hair, a petite green chameleon curled around his neck, "And I am your tutor."

No, he didn't have to put up with this. Tsuna turned his heel and began to walk out the small pergola. He felt the water soak into his expensive leather shoes as he began his way out.

_Bam._

Tsuna froze. Collapsing onto his knees, under the downpour of the rain, he reached up shakily to touch the wisps of fallen hair, they clumped against his fingers under the rain.

"Lesson number one, don't turn away when I'm talking." Reborn watched as his student fell to his knees painfully, his gun smoking under the roof of the pergola. "You are going to be the 10th generation Vongola Boss, the most powerful familiga in Europe. It's my job to get you ready. And to get you good."

Tsuna didn't know what to feel, he sat there. Staring out the path numbly, the heads of the mourning tipped his visions from that angle. He faintly noted the neutral expression of his mother, the deep soul wrenching sorrow for her youngest son.

A smirk, Reborn tilted his fedora, "I'll be at your house in a week, Dame-Tsuna." Tsuna flinched at the name, "You cannot escape from fate."

Cocking his gun, earning a sharp flinch from the teen, Reborn frowned at the sight before him. Turning his heel to disappear before calling out, "By the way, I know who killed your brother."

Had he turned and watched the sight behind him, Reborn would have an idea of the potential that wasn't there. Something stiffened, flashed, turned on or broke off.

And so, it was a day where the skies mourned, the rain cleansed, sun hid, the lightning crackled and the cloud drifted; when Tsunayoshi Sawada grew more into the man he was going to be, from the child he was.

* * *

Haru doesn't really notice people, well, not their mood or feelings particularly. No, it didn't really concern her half the time. She was too involved with her own brightness to notice.

Waking up in a ratty apartment on top of a thick mattress strewn across the floor and a smooth white blanket that felt out of place, she noticed the girl across from her. Haru stared blankly, eyeing the ratted hair and tears that dragged it self down the opposite girl's face.

"_Hahi_!" She cringed, the sound was too sharp for her pounding head, "W-what? My dad, tou-san's going to be worried! W-what time is it?"

"I called him." Haru's frantic movements froze, she collapsed. Shoving herself into the corner of the room, she backed away from the girl. Amari, she remembered, the gun. Her eyes searched for the shape under her clothes, loose and minimal, Amari sat against the wall.

Her fingers brushed the bandages around her waist, raising a hand to touch the ones wrapped tightly around her forehead. She wanted to laugh, Haru thought her costume for a patient was complete.

Silence ensued.

She was scared, afraid, and even worse, accepting to death. When she realized that no one had gone to look for her, Haru had spied the road sign from her angle by the window, which means Amari had called. Her father would most likely receive the message after he came home, around midnight. She wasn't particularly close with anyone at school, the small voice inside her head was right, no one would notice.

A croak, "Ano, I-I'm sorry."

Haru's head snapped towards the girl so fast she felt her brain crash into her skull, or was it her skull against the corner of the wall. Flabbergasted at the way Amari treated this life and death situation, Haru was chilled to the bone, the sudden brush to a gun, a death, an end, felt too close to bear.

"_I'm sorry_!" The leggy girl shrieked, dropping onto her knees before Haru's shaken form, "I-I was scared! I didn't know what to do! That's what they would've done, I-I couldn't do it. I c-cleaned your w-wounds, I'm sorry!" She sobbed.

Haru stared at the shivering girl before her, head bowed and words mumbled by her frantic tears. She wondered if she had done this yesterday -was it yesterday? -would Amari have killed her? Haru visioned a knife across the back of her neck, a clean slice, or a gun pressed just as it had been to her.

"M-my name is not Amari Ito," the girl blubbered, sitting up. Giving Haru a full sight of big teary green eyes, a flare of envy shot through her, "I-it's Kaede. My name is Kaede."

The girl, Kaede now, took a deep breath. Her gaze strong against the apathetic ones of Haru, "My name is Kaede. I," she paused.

"I know your name is Haru Miura, you're in my grade, I just moved here from Italy." Kaede still sat on her knees, staring desperately at the silent girl before her. Begging for forgiveness, for her own salvation. She swallowed, "That's a lie. I didn't move. I ran away."

A sudden cackle, "I'm not even from Italy! Haru, _listen_ to me. I'm not even from Italy! I was born in Russia, I was raised in France and lived in Italy for the past 2 years."

A steady gaze towards the struggling blonde, she continued as she got Haru's attention. "The mafia. They killed my family, my _familiga_. I'm from a small one, only a handful of people, we were like a guild, not a gang." Amari- no, Kaede wanted to scream when she sighted the disbelief across the other girl's face, "_I_ _promise_!" Her voice rose.

Haru's head rang with the sudden volume. She tried to process the truth form the girl, still desperate for her forgiveness. Why wasn't she dead? Why did 'Kaede' not kill her? And why, of all things, did she apologize?

Haru knew enough about killers on tv and books, she knew about people enough to know that killers kill. They do the job, the take away the life, if she was here, was 'Kaede' not a killer?

_Who is she?_

"Who _are_ you?" Haru rasped, her voice clammed up into racking coughs as she finished her question. The other the leaped towards her, Haru screamed, only to let out a silent yell that pained her throat. A bottle of water was thrusted into her hand as 'Kaede' backed away, her face dark.

"M-my name is Kaede." She began again, "Im not going to hurt you." A terrible déjà vu, a bitter smile noted the common thoughts of the duo, "not anymore."

"Who's _they_?" Haru's voice raspy and she tongued her cheeks, trying to feel her face again. Still, she relaxed.

"The m-mafia." Kaede settled into crossing her legs, leaning against the opposite wall. "I was born into a small family, a familiga even. We were a small group, everyone knew each other. And during one end of a deal, they died."

Haru stared, pushing herself further into the wall, the corner squeezed her back painfully.

"I'm going to get _revenge_." Kaede swore, fists up and eyes aflame, "I promise on my life, that I _will_ find them. I'll _kill_ them for what they did to me. What I've been through. I'll _kill_ them!"

"What makes you think you can kill?" The words slipped out of her mouth suddenly, Haru's eyes wide and frantic. "Hahi! No, I-I didn't say a-anything! Revenge? Y-yeah! A-all the way!"

She chugged water to sooth her burning throat, eyeing the neutral expression of the girl across from her.

"Don't you worry, Haru-chan." Kaede stood and declared upon the maroon sky, "Im going to kill them, with my dying breath. I'll do whatever it takes, I won't let anyone, _anything_ stand in my way."

A pregnant pause, "I want to go home." Haru whispered in a small voice, clutching her knees together. "_Let me go._"

Suddenly, the blonde seemed enraged, "Look here, I'm not holding you here! If you want to leave, _leave_! I _saved_ you from bleeding to death, _I_ cleaned you up! I _could've_ let you die! I wanted to _apologize_! I was being a bitch! Just go if you want to!" She was breathing hard, "Do you see shackles? _No! _Go home! _You're pathetic_."

Haru's eyes wide, she clutched her hands together to endure the verbal assault. She said nothing.

"There's no bolts on the door! Go! _Go_!" Kaede screeched, pointing towards the yellowed doorway, "You can't even defend yourself, you talk in third person and say your fucking '_hahi_' or whatever after everything! _You're going to die._ And _no_ _one_ is going to help you 'cause you're _fucking annoying_."

Haru flinched under the voice, she suddenly stood up, and scrambled towards the door. Only to be tripped and face place harshly onto the gritty ground, she heard the vicious smirk. "What are you doing? _Get out!_"

Without another look, Haru scrambled out the door, throwing it wildly down and sprinted out the hallway. Throwing herself against the exit door, she tumbled down the stairwell. Collapsing onto her knees once again as she hit the warm pavement outside the building.

If she had turned, looked back, or noticed Kaede. Haru would've seen the inward loneliness, sadness and a familiar thought of herself. But she didn't notice.

No, she didn't.

With a warm bath in mind, Haru dragged herself towards the intersection. Limping her way to the house she shared with her father, not quite a home yet, a secret urging to be though.

Her shadow danced under the street lights, Haru envied it. She smiled, collapsing to the ground as she reached her house. The words echoed in her head, she wondered, if she only knew the truth about herself.

She wondered, if she really was a distant like the faint stars that glittered above her.

Haru thought, _the sky is so pretty right now._

* * *

**A week later.**

A gym bag thrown against the wall roughly, she cursed. Her balance was impeccable, her landings were solid, and she knew, her flips were at the _very_ _least_ decent. Rubbing the powder between her fingers as she recalled the names on the Events sheet. She cursed inwardly again, something she has been doing a lot lately.

Her hand touched her sides, the cut was healing, her bruised back had some ointment and sleep that did its job. Haru's head out up with enough to get through the day. Still, she felt the oncoming headache.

"Haru!" She turned, "I heard you didn't make it, you did so well though."

Plastering a smile, "Arigatou, Aiko-san. Congratulations, desu." Her smile wavered, her tacked on words brought unwanted memories to her head. The other girl floated out the change room, leaving Haru with her gymnastics things and her frustration.

Speed walking her way home, clad in shorts and leotard she cared less about the odd and rude glances her way. Something she had noticed she did often, not caring. Haru guessed that social etiquette did not include skin tight gym wear and short shorts in public.

She fished for her keys, stepping inside the cool house, she noticed the blood stains. Haru's mind flashed towards her father, on a week retreat with his math students, in Osaka, a national contest. Relief rippled through her as she grabbed the tall vase that decorated the side table.

"Haru!" Haru's muscles screamed in protest after such a physical workout during practice, she swung the vase only to freeze at the sight before her.

"_Hahi_! K-Kaede?!" The vase shattered at her feet, she stared at the girl. Covered in blood and dozens-no hundreds, of cuts. The girl was nearly unrecognizable, her face swollen and black and blue, hints of black charred the once blonde hair, several bat shaped blades stuck out of her arms and back. Haru saw some hand printed bruises that decorated her forearms and face.

The only recognizable feature were Kaede's dull green eyes, a spark of satisfaction and relief as she sighted the girl. "Huh, you're not so pathetic after all." She slurred.

Haru flinched, "What are you doing _here_?" She knew what Kaede was here for, help. A place to be safe. A _friend_. Her heart ached at the sight of the once beautiful girl, Haru knew that she would no longer look the same. Her heart strings tugged at the sight of the relief to see a familiar person in Kaede's eyes, Haru wondered of the girl's friends.

Kaede had not been to school since then. She now knew why. She recalled the detentions for the damage in the library, the community service she still had to do. She frowned, dropping her gymnastics bag and gesturing the girl into the large bathroom of the first floor.

Picking up her first aid kit inside her gym bag, her sewing kit and the large first aid kit she had stashed in the cabinets, Haru followed the limping girl. Along the way, she picked up some of the stashed sake of her fathers, Haru bristled, as if her father would get away with hiding things from her.

"Drink it." Thrusting the bottle under Kaede's nose, Haru turned on the water on the large tub, she settled the once-blonde on the side as she filled the tub with hot water.

"You're really nice." Kaede's eyes blurred, "But fake. You _really_ fake. And weird."

Haru cut open the girl's shorts, leaving her in her underwear. A wide gash and several blades stuck out of her thighs. Snatching the bottle away mercilessly, she dumped its contents onto the gashes and cuts, soaking a thin clothe with it too.

Kaede hissed, "Holy _fuck_! Haru you _better_ know what you're doing!" She paused, before adding darkly, "They certainly did."

Basic first aid was taught during etiquette classes she had taken when she was little, Haru hoped stitching together a wound was like two pieces of cloth.

"So, what did you do?" She asked distractingly, wanting for the girl to talk as she gently took out the knives, wiping the leg down with alcohol and water. Haru's eyes trailed towards the bat shaped knives, it was pretty.

"Fucked up, that's what," Kaede began nonchalantly, "Those fuckers left me to die. I didn't have any where to go."

"You're not that tough." Haru was half in mind of what she was saying, the other, bandaging the shins of the half naked girl before her. "But what did you do?"

"I was fucking up some assholes when fuckers called Varia or something came. Apparently it was too close to where they were, annoying _fuckers_." She cursed, "Some bitch threw these son-of-a-bitches at me," gesturing to the knives," and I dragged myself here."

"Where _were_ you?" Haru tugged on the bandaged of Kaede's shins, they were wrapped tightly and fresh, the ends of her mouth tilted. She moved onto the thighs, turning off the hot water and rinsing the cloth with it, leaving the other soaking in the sake.

"Three hours away," Kaede gazed at her shins, eyes blurry, "My week has been pretty fucked up."

"Stop saying fuck." Haru dumped the sake onto the large gash to enforce her order, Kaede screamed.

"_Fuck_ you!" She began to sterilize the needle and the string with hot water and alcohol, Haru took a deep breath, she began to stitch.

"Can you feel it?" She mumbled.

"Fucking yes, I can _fucking_ feel it, you _fucking_ fucktard!" Kaede screeched, biting into her hand.

"Stop moving." Haru thanked The Lord for the absence of her father right now, finishing off the stitches. "Done."

Wiping the blood and sweat away, Haru bandaged the legs. Adding ointment and patting it dry, she moved Kaede onto the toilet to sit.

"After this, you owe me." Haru began to work on her back, pulling out the shallow blades, "Leave me alone, do not _contact_ me, do not _go near_ me. I _don't_ know you, I-I don't want to be part of this, desu."

A cackle rocked Kaede's body, "Honey, you're already in far too deep."

"What?" She paused, "what do you mean? I'm innocent, I'm not part of this, any of it."

Kaede paused, she knew that it was her own selfish whims that brought the girl, the potential was there. She pursed her lips in pain and self hatred, and continued with her fib. "They know you're here, they know who you are. You're never going to leave it," she added for good measure, "You can't run from fate."

It was silent.

Haru used the shower head over the bloody water the water the bloody buzz cut that was once blonde. After handing instructions of her living room, Haru showered and dressed. Leaving the unconscious girl to sleep, she headed out.

* * *

The second Reborn set foot into the Sawada household he already knew many things, the facts and details of both-once three- occupants. Yet he did not know of the obvious preference of the twins, nor did he know of the relationships they had.

Reborn had learned several things as he lived with Tsuna and Nana, several that would have deemed impossible to explain into words.

Tsunayoshi Sawada was terrible at everything that people considered formidable, however, most people doesn't consider a _heart_ to be formidable. He had, fortunately, a head start on the kind of leader Reborn wanted to instill into him to be.

Yet every advantage had its disadvantages, the boy had little to no physical ability. That missing charisma was lost, the assertive voice and reason of command was never there and the compassion had yet to be found.

Reborn wondered who Tsuna was before the death.

From the moment Reborn set foot into that door, he knew with one look that Tsuna was sprawling into depression. It did not help that his mother would often mistaken him for the other, the room with large letters of Tamaki's name would stay across from Tsuna's. Reborn was not a psychologist, he did however, care for the sanity of a future boss.

So he did, what he did. He taught with his methods, ignoring and trying to learn about the shadowed look of his student's face. Still, Reborn contemplated with the invitation of the infamous Smoking Bomb Hayato into his ward's current lifestyle.

"I'm going out." He raised his eyes to see a tuff of brown hair, and the newly present slouch leave the house.

Reborn followed him.

Tsuna knew that Reborn would follow him, an inward voice of reason that would just say the logical actions of his self-proclaimed tutor. He dragged his feet, not knowing where to go.

Tsuna frowned, a more familiar emotion than anything at the moment. He recalled the number of times he had been mistaken for his brother, the ashen look on his mother's face when she realized her mistake. Apologizing and excuses, a trick of light, a shadow, a crumb on your face.

He cursed.

Tsuna felt heavy, heavy with the chains and restrictions. He had come to believe the baby, the mafia business. The Vongola. He felt heavy with the memories of his brother, the saddened looks at school.

Hell, even the _bullies_ laid off. Out of respect, he doubted it, perhaps for his brother.

Tsuna stared at his shoes, his brothers infact. He wondered who he was, he wondered of his own self _worth_ without his brother. Would people invite him to places, ever?

Was he not much, not part of, now that Tamaki was gone?

"You okay, desu?" His thoughts disrupted as he saw a girl, sitting on the roof of the playground. "It's a clear night, today."

He gazed up towards the indigo sky, "Yeah, I suppose it is."

Tsuna watched the girl turn to him again, not with a smile, but a hand in his direction. Whorls of burgundy brown hair, deep champaign eyes and a slim figure, she was pretty, in a plain sort of way. High cheek bones and wide shoulders, the girl was familiar.

"Thanks." He muttered, gripping her hand and settled himself atop the plastic pergola. He spotted bits of dried blood beneath her fingernails, Tsuna looked at her in question.

"A girl claims she in the mafia tried to kill me last week, desu." She began, startling Tsuna with the familiar words of his own situation, "She appeared today bloodied and half dead, Ha-I cleaned her up and she's on my couch now."

Haru expected the boy to run away, to laugh and ridicule her. Somehow, she _hoped_ to get a reaction, she didn't know how to feel about it. The wild brown hair and large eyes, delicate features and a familiar gaze, she was sure she had seen him before.

"Do you believe me, desu?" Haru turned towards the sky, the stares winked at her mockingly.

"Yes." Tsuna answered to his surprise. "A baby named Reborn claimed that he was from the mafia and tried to kill me at my b-brother's f-funeral. He's back now and is training me to become the 10th Vongola Mafia Boss."

Haru was almost skeptical of the mocking tone in his voice, she caught the glimmer of humor and chuckled. Tsuna watched the girl beside him chuckle, before joining her too.

Without a care in the world, without a thought of anyone else but himself. Tsuna felt crazy, the laugh wasn't truly genuine, but just an expression of the world into the innate voices he could not commute.

"My name is Tsuna S-Sawada." He introduced, watching the girl's dimples flash under the darkening sky.

"Haru Miura, desu." She recalled the golden haired twin she had spied on, and realizing the brother he had talked about. She frowned, having no idea how to deal with this situation. Haru watched the stars. "Do you think, that he's watching you? Up there, desu. Amongst the stars?"

Startled at the questions, Tsuna felt indifferent. He had expected the apologies and questions, never his opinion, he had forgotten how long it had been to actually be heard, to have a voice. To have someone care for your thoughts, a small smile on his face, he answered. "No, he wouldn't bother."

"I suppose not." Haru paused, "The dead should be _free_. But it's the living that's really restricted, desu."

"I wonder why people assume the 'gates of hell' to restrict the dead." Tsuna mused, "We're really the ones with the burden, huh."

"Agreed, desu."

"I'd be watching though," a slight breeze reminded the duo of their location, "I'd watch over my friends. Protect them even, like a star."

"Don't you mean like the sky?"

"What do you mean?" Tsuna turned towards the girl, her eyes closed and a smile grin.

"I-I don't know, I always feel like the sky protects everything beneath it. Like a blanket, like a wrapper?"

They laughed into the night, bringing quiet joy to the desolate. The gentle flames that warms the broken.

Like a candle.

"Yeah. Like a wrapper."

* * *

*_in traditional Japanese funerals they give condolence money, but I think because they're half Italian, Tsuna will wear a suit and have a Japanese styled funeral for his brother. _

_Thank you to laffup for reviewing! _

_Pairings are on my profile, there's a poll. Questions, mistakes, inputs, ideas, please feel free to PM me._

_thanks._

_**M.**_


	3. 2: Through Time

_The Lonely Two. Through Time_

* * *

_"I need to know," he managed. "Tell me."_

_"Need to know what?"_

_"Boy, information's never free." A crooked grin, "Remember that, brat. Information is never free. If it is, it's a lie."_

* * *

And so, it was a lie.

But then again, she didn't really know the truth anymore. It came as it went, a fleeting memory of the words she had once said. It was this sense of falseness she had always known that stood solace to her darkness. But she liked the dark.

It was the sudden and forceful wretched light that burnt her eyes, the truth. As a former self and publicly proclaimed compulsive liar, she couldn't help but look. To weave another of the brilliant illusion of words. To peek through the rabbit hole.

She craved it more than a starved addict to their favourite pastime. She needed it more than a single mother to money. She yearned for it more than a lonely child and love. She _needed_ that control, that total and complete manipulation of words and situations. That silent grasp on everything, a tip in the scales, a hinted hand in the dark and the _power_ behind the throne.

Yet, she wanted to laugh. Not a particularly pretty one, mind you. A shrill laugh and hasty breathes, people found no joy in her joy. _What do I need?_ She would question herself, the ambiguous line between reality and the thought of controlling her own possibilities blurred. The latter, gone.

She hurt.

She snickered and sneered, she was lost. The fear of oblivion was more present than ever. Between that, she watched. Through the countless days, meals and medical checkups of her host.

She sat through the silent tears of the girl, Haru, she recalled. She sat through the verbal jabs of a stressed parent towards the girl. She perched upon a wall as she passed by the feeble flashes of dimples that graced the girl's face. She settled on the dewy grass as she listened to the haunting melodies of the eerie violin of the early morning her caretaker seemed to have affection for.

"Kaede-san." The girl would say, whilst doing housework or homework. She would not turn nor acknowledge the younger girl. She would catch sight of the beautiful natural curls, the same ones that beneath sun, would shine in depth of colours of red and brown.

She would sneer in response, not a word to be said, fewer through time. "You're so pathetic. Stand up! _Speak_ up! God, you're so useless."

There would never be an answer, she would never look her way. It was almost like she never heard her. Yet, she did catch sight of the silent tears when the girl huddled on the floor of her room.

"And you go to a fucking _elite_ school." She would sneer at the girl, cleaning. "You missed a spot."

It was the simplest of things that set her off, she almost felt bad for Haru. It would be the most mundane of questions that would change her mood.

"What do you want to do today?" It was a beautiful day, cloudless and bright. She slouched on the living room chair, Haru sat beneath the light doing work. She had watched her finish her homework to perfection, she gazed longingly outside.

"I don't know." A quiet reply, eyes dark and face in the books.

"Any ideas?" She pressed on, the dark sinking cloud about her -dare she say it?- _friend_, was choking the girl to death.

"Anything is fine."

Her brows ticked in annoyance, "But I asked _you_." She took a deep breathe, "Okay, any ideas?"

"I'm okay with anything." She almost smiled at the lack of verbal ticks, it took a long time before the irritating and childish words were lost. She almost suspected Haru no longer had the excitement nor the happiness to continue her expressions.

"Volleyball? Park? Supermarket? Zoo? Mall? _Cake shop?_"

"You can choose." Obviously the boredom had caught up to Haru, she no longer saw the words swimming before her eyes.

"_I asked you!_" She snapped, "Forget it."

She had not seen the look that had crossed Haru's face, yet she left, brooding. To recall the last events and the questionable future. A slam of the door, she was in the dark. Her own thoughts.

Sometimes, she would wonder, as she watched the one sided conversations of Haru and her father, why she wasn't dead. _Why_ things happen the way they'd were. And always, why were there people like Haru to take in people like _her_ into their households and reluctantly into their hearts.

She knew, that the father was a teacher, one that used to help Haru with her math and homework. Her mother passed away giving birth to Haru, and the girl had a complex, yes. She noticed, the small things.

That one side of Haru's mouth that wouldn't move when she was frowning, the dimples that flashed rarely nowadays, the large wrist bones that struck out like a structure. She noticed the deft fingers slice smoothly through fresh food, craftily twirl a pen around the fingers, she noticed the smoothness of her walk.

She had a hard time noticing, she had thought Haru wasn't meant to be noticed. The girl's gait was smooth and gliding, silent and as was she. Her existence took up little, it effected little, she rarely hear or see her in the room, yet she was always there.

Just always there.

She noticed.

So, she decided not to question. Because she had learned through experience, that when you question the good things, the doubt, the possibilities, they will lose the good.

She would smile and share about herself, lies and truths. Sometimes, she didn't know the difference. She would look into big champagne coloured eyes that stared at her hard, she would feel young again, like a child being reprimanded by a mother. And she would look away and laugh, sometimes what she thought was true was far from what she had known.

It had been countless times, days, meals and bandage changes until she asked her, just when she came back from her friend, Tsuna. The sun dimmed and the sky rumbled in preparation for a storm. She sat, toying with the fly-aways of her prim bandages.

"Haru?" She called, her golden hair that she treasured were jagged and short, she wasn't sure if _she_ loved it. Or her mother did, it was _suppose_ to be important to her, so she decided it was. "Question."

"H-yes?"

"Why did you let me stay?" It was hard, she swallowed. She worried, she had been ready to cash in on the lack of thought and logic that had been put into the decision of her stay. She realized that they wouldn't throw out an injured person, she still was, technically. It wasn't hard to lie about such trivial things. She smiled.

"Will you leave?" Her smile wavered. The gentle patronizing voice that she had thought sounded like a teacher guiding a mentally disturbed student, she scowled.

"No, I'm asking you, why did you let me stay? Why _do_ you let me stay?" She insisted, annoyance coated her words.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" Abruptly, she stood up and left. The room coated with silence of absence of the soul. The door slammed, Haru stopped. She dropped the knife she had in her hand onto the counter, setting the half peeled apple aside. Haru sighed.

She wiped her hands on the kitchen towel, brushing a hair from her face, she felt grim. The lights were off, the distant chatter of the crowd seemed so far away, or it magnified the lack of presence in the house. A blue hue tinted the smooth beige walls, shadows danced.

Haru watched the room, to each bare wooden chair and the worn stains atop the mahogany table. A leaf fell from the small mint plant that bloomed under the kitchen window, she closed her eyes.

"Ha-hi?" She tried, after days of countless swearing, not so gentle hair tugs and verbal threats, Haru learned not to add her shrieks and 'desu' after her sentences. It helped, her own sanity that is. She didn't mind the punishment that came with the usage, she welcomed it. The words felt foreign, she tried again, "D-desu?"

The sound echoed.

Haru picked up the half peeled apple, now yellowing under her gaze, like a flower wilting in sped up time. Her mind traced to Tsuna, his silent but turmoiled tendencies of being in his boxers and heroic deeds. She knew, that she had pulled him out of this depression, only to spiral into her own.

She sucked in air sharply, a fresh cut on her finger. The blood oozed out, she made no move to clean it. A fairly deep cut, Haru felt the distant stinging of the injury, she watched as the drop of blood grew in size. Suddenly staining the flesh of the apple in washed up tints of red.

She continued to cut.

Haru recalled that baby, with the fedora as she sliced the apples, hands still trailing blood. Perhaps she chose not to believe, just as she chose not to care of the details of the mysterious girl in her house. The mafia, she wanted to laugh, whether in disbelief or insanity, she didn't know.

Haru placed the apples under the stream of cold water, her hands numb and the water coloured red. Stepping them aside, she opened the fridge. The yellowing brown of bananas reminded her of Kaede, who Haru found out was not a platinum blonde, but a dirty blonde.

She convinced herself that it was therapy, taking care of the girl. Distantly and numbly fussing over a stranger, and perhaps, to her, a stranger was the easiest. The smoothest and at the ease of her mind. Haru cursed silently, her finger slipped again, a shallow cut under her thumb.

Haru paused, her eyes tired, she felt like an insomniac. Sleep had not come to her lately, nor had happy dreams. Her wet fingers prodded the dark bags under her eyes, she closed them.

A sudden jerking, she dropped the knife with a clatter and sprinted out the front door, slamming it shut. Haru sprinted down the rode, her hair wild and free from their bindings fell into the natural corkscrews, her breath shuddering dangerously as she paused.

Ignoring the looks of the shoppers, she jogged and sprinted and panted her way past the shopping district. Tears running down her cheek, she bent to pick up a long piece of bloody wrapping that was once white, Haru heard her.

"Fucking bitch!" A coarse scream, "Let me go, fuckers! You have no sense of justice you pussies!" A slew of Italian, Haru cringed, she picked up her heavy body and rushed towards the voice.

A sudden impact and she was out, her hands still bleeding and her breaths still frantic, Haru slumped towards the inviting grounds of the grimy back alleyway.

* * *

She remembered the beauty of it, the smooth transition of what Kaede called _Parkour_. She recalled the light, the crisp feel of the roof as she stood awkwardly, watching the half injured female dance about the roves. Haru had thought it was like a bird free from its cage, like music being heard for the first time, and she had thought it was beautiful.

Haru remembered the effortless jump that had her screaming for help, the smooth display of balance and trust. The acceptance of death after every step captivated her, she watch passionately, begging to be taught.

A light shown upon her eyes, too bright to be that day.

Groggily, she sat up. She felt the cold, realizing it to be her lack of clothes, the sharp chill nipped at her limbs. Haru's eyes trailed to the bindings, thick plastic and a skipping rope were her makeshift bindings. Her head sour and her body numb from either the cold or the liquid fear in her veins, Haru didn't know.

Her hands, sticky from dried blood and her body bare other than her underwear, she screamed.

Struggling and pulling, biting and shrieking for help, for anyone, for a saviour. Haru's throat raw, her eyes dried and her heart pounded painfully, her wrists rubbed raw and her legs bruised from slamming into the ground.

She saw them watching.

Brute and tattooed, the old were balding and fat, the youth, grim faced and scarred, they watched her with interest. Haru shivered.

"My, what a pleasant surprise that bitch brought along, eh?" The man dragged from his cigar, the smoke chokes her. He walked tantalizingly close towards her, she whimpered, tugging on the restraints. "Like a buy one get one _free_, eh."

They howled with laughter, the man ran a hand on her shoulder, dragging it down her back. She wanted to cry, to scream but nothing came out, she wanted to die. Haru decided to do what she had seen down, she spat.

"You know what we do with untrained bitches, eh?" A burning cigar pressed into her back, close enough to feel the heat, far enough from being burned. Goosebumps raised along her arms.

"We train'em." The youth supplied, Haru was feeling fear. True gut wrenching, brain freezing and death abiding fear. Faintly, she realized she wasn't afraid of death, but rather to _live_ after this. Her heart hurt, her body hurt and the fear pulsed through her, she shuddered involuntarily.

The deep grooves of his leathered skin pressed close to her face, she couldn't close her eyes to the wicked gleam in his dark, beady eyes. A glint of gold in his teeth, tattoos flashed before Haru saw stars.

She felt rings press upon her cheek as her head snapped back, she cried out. Haru felt the blood rushing, or the heat, she didn't know. Only to faintly taste the blood on her lips, it streamed down her cheek bones.

"Us good mafia folk will treat you _real_ nice, eh." He grinned, the indent of cigars constantly hanging on his mouth yellowed with the absence of one. The rope slapped the cement ground as Haru jerkily tugged and pulled on the binds. The raw scream of lack of energy echoed and carried, she sobbed.

Hysterical, Haru watched the man drag a cigar butt down her arms, before screeching with a voice she didn't know she processed as the burning cigar butt pressed into her side.

"You're pretty chick eh," sausage fingers tapped her back, she felt the trail of grim and sweat, the scent of smoke and weed choked her, "Pretty hair too, eh."

"We don't get to see many of 'em hair like yours," the younger one stepped forward, his hand tugged at her hair, Haru whimpered.

She shrieked as she felt the slimy heat of saliva and a hot mouth attach itself to her neck, biking and licking. Haru turned her head sharply only to butt heads sharply, her vision blurred for a second.

"Fuck!" He cursed, "You bitch."

He drew a hand back and slammed it into her stomach, Haru collapsed, only to be caught by the restraints in a tight awkward crawl and grovel by the ground. She peeked over the edges of worn leather boots as they attacked her sides, her body shook and shuddered with every breath.

Haru's hands cold, she touched the cool cement ground. The gritty grains of dirt and warm blood that soaked her hands felt sensitive to her skin. She relished in the coolness of the ground against her body, another swing to her sides. She gasped, feeling the blood pool within her.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Her eyes reached up, hands clutching each other as she huddled on the floor silently. Bloody and bandaged stood Kaede with a fearsome looking gun, Haru tried to feel relief.

She watched in horror as bullets pierced through the young bright haired man, a mess of blood and bones left laying near her. The pool of blood gathered, she could feel its warmth on the cool cement. Haru's throat burned, yet she screamed, loudly and desperately she tried to say something.

Kaede covered her ears, the older male sprung into action and brought his own gun forward. He slammed into her, both crashing atop the metal cupboards that lined the walls, detaching one of the restraints in the process. Growling in triumph, he gripped Kaede by the bandages of her neck, like a scruff.

"Filthy bitches," he cocked the gun towards her temple, "Die-"

Kaede spun suddenly, sweeping the man off this feet. A loud thud, he landed hard in his elbows, crying out, he kicked his leg up. Slamming it into a hyperventilating Haru on the ground.

"Haru!" She shrieked, desperately trying to reach for the gun. Her senses slowed and her vision darkened, Kaede was afraid.

Ducking a swing of a pocket knife, she skid to a stop to reach for the gun. "Run! Get out! _Haru!_"

The girl huddled numbly, half naked and eyes distant, she made no movement. Kaede screamed in frustration, she sighted the smirk on the balding's face, she raced to reach Haru. Whist he reached the gun.

Slamming onto the ground harshly, her knees rattled. Kaede's fingers numb and trembled as she unknotted the restraints in frustration, finishing the last as she heard the familiar click.

"Don't move." He panted, sweat lined his brow and hairline. The necklaces that wrapped around his neck felt heavy and sweaty, uncomfortable against his skin. His hand shook ever so slightly, a blooming black eye on his right eye winked beneath the dim lights.

"Don't _fucking_ move."

Haru stared, the saw over Kaede's shoulder, into the barrel of the gun pressed against the blonde's head. Kaede continued to untie her, her limbs frozen and heavy. She couldn't not move, in fear and injury, her body throbbed.

At the slight shuddering of Haru's shoulders, she shifted, accidentally knocking the blonde's knee of support. A sudden jerk, she fell.

Kaede's mind was weary, it was indifferent and unique. Her thoughts jumbled and words weaves through in enigmatic ways. However, it was not anything but the basic of human skill to recognize death. The sudden movement scared her, she grasped for something.

_Bam._

She recognized it, death. Kaede slumped onto Haru, a hole in her head and wistful regret on her face.

She screamed. Haru's voice raw and bloody, she screamed. Her hands that sought the coolness of the cement ground felt hot, felt burnt. She stared into the empty eyes of the corpse that collapsed onto of her, a hand gripped her neck tightly, pulling her from beneath the body. Blood trailed down her body, soaking her underwear.

Haru wasn't sure, her mind was muddy, her body even more so. Her hands burned, she held them up, feeling immense pressure she opened her hands to see a weak glow, golden. Yet dark.

Not beautiful. Streaked with black and dark shadows, the meagre tainted gold winked in the dim light. She felt not the hand that latched itself onto her neck, nor the heated barrel of the gun that pressed into her forehead.

Haru's eyes mesmerized by the flickering light no larger than her thumb, she reached up to touch the man, who had not yet spotted the glow.

It was dust, a beautiful grey.

Haru slumped down, once back on the grainy ground of the cold dark and bare room, comforted by the past warmth of a sheet of ash, the sticky blood of regret and the dead body of a once friend.

She fell.

_"You're really flexible." She remarked, poking the smaller girl's back as she stretched, "You're kind of strong too."_

_"Haru is in the gymnastic's club, desu!" She chirped brightly, earning a death glare and a sharp thump to the head._

_"Don't use third person!" She hissed, she punched the girl roughly, "And stop using desu! You're not fucking three!"_

_"I wouldn't be able to say it if I were three." She mumbled, yet nodding obediently._

_"What was that?" A snarl._

_"Hahi!" Another punch, "N-nothing. D-"_

_"Get to work, damn it."_

_"H-hai." A hesitant hovering at the door, she nervously glanced up at the glowering girl, "Ano."_

_"Well?" She snapped impatiently, "Spit it out!" Immediately, a tinge of guilt as she softened and beckoned the girl to continue, "what is it?"_

_"What would do you think Haru should dress up as this week, desu?" She chattered on happily, "Haru's thinking of an octopus, but Haru already has a costume for it, desu!"_

_"Go make food. And shut up."_

_"H-hai." _

She found herself on the floor, covered in thick ash and sticky with the remnants of dried blood. Haru tried to cough, only to have thick blood appear on the floor, a tangy metallic taste filled her mouth.

She scrambled to stand, leaning atop the cool metal closets, Haru recognized her own nakedness. The room covered in a layer of ash, a fallen gun, a suspicious lump in the ground and bare lights, she surveyed the door.

Shakily walked towards the lump that looked suspiciously like a body, she lifted a shaky hand and wiped the inch of ash away. Haru couldn't look away, horror and fear filled her mind as she desperately threw herself away.

In front of her, blonde and blank eyed was the dead body of Kaede Ito, a former Mafioso. Blood trailed from her forehead, the bullet wound gruesome, she swallowed tears and snot thickly. Catching a glint in the light, Haru slowly leaped over and wretched the metallic object from the body. Shrieking as it flopped uselessly, the chain snapped.

In her hand was a small pocket watch, golden and smooth, the elaborate embroideries around the cover, opening up in sleek circles to show the Roman numerals. The centre was open, the silver hands danced as a clear sight of the golden gears rolled under the open cover. It was warm, Haru gathered the chain onto one hand, clutching it to her chest.

Haru's body froze, she heard the distant sounds of human voices and footsteps. Diving into the dirt, she searched for the discarded gun beneath the dust, frantically clawing nothingness, she listened to the footsteps closing in.

Throwing herself to the side as the door opened, she gripped a pocketknife, shaking and shivering involuntarily. Adrenaline pulsed through her, Haru's mind flashed towards the dead eyes of Kaede, angry shot through her. Identifying 2 new people in the room, she charged between them suddenly.

Her bare feet slapped against the cement, rubbing raw as she approached the gravel ground. Her body still half naked, she raced through the hallways as calls and shots ran through.

A sudden burning sensation to her arm as she realized she's been shot, warmth and hot liquid pulsed towards the wound. In desperation, she turned and flung the knife forward. Feelings stab of triumph as she heard the distant cry, her eyes grasped for the light as Haru burst through the door, into the street.

She smiled, hands still clutching the pocket watch. Panting and ignoring the shrieks for help, Haru collapsed. She grinned wildly at the ground, her cheek pressed into the fine gravel. It was cool against her flushed skin, she chuckled wildly. Her mind miscellaneous, and soon to be dark.

The blood seeped, she smiled. Haru closed her eyes in the warmth.

The warmth of the darkened night sky, the humming of the ground, the heat of her own blood, and the darkness of her mind.

She smiled.

* * *

She awoke to the quiet humming and sounds of a bustling business place, Haru sat up. Her body fresh and clean, the bandages that wrapped tightly on her smelled clean and felt new. She squinted in the light, she sat up.

The room was lonely, it was a dark night, the moon shone past the meagre blinds. Haru touched her head, her hair, now shoulder length, swished at her collar bones. Her arm, she noticed was stiff and numb. Haru felt something gripped tightly in her hang. It moulded into the shape of her fingers, the imprint, the smooth yet delicate features that pressed hard into her hand.

She used her other hand to pry it open, a chain slipped down her fingers, warm and smooth. It was long and silver, a sturdy chain that heated to her body temperature. Connected to it was a pocket watch, heavy and weighted. The body and cover was coated with elaborate carvings, the centre opened up in intricate curves to show the 12 Roman numerals and the fragile golden gears beneath. The knob was of antique style, silver and curved, she pressed it gently, a soft click as it opened. The light shined off the moving gears, her eyes trailed to the designs behind the cover, still beautiful.

The hands raced before her, the chain rattled with blemishes in the metal, the pocket watch smooth as day and warmed to her hand. She fit it back into the imprint made on her right hand, she smiled gingerly.

"You're awake." She looked up, a petite, sharp looking nurse headed her way. The woman's features severe and the tight low bun tucked in the wisps of grey. In her hands, a tray of food, tucked beneath, a clipboard. "Ohayo, I'm Nurse Aiko. You may call me Aiko-chan."

Somehow, she felt uncomfortable with the familial names, she nodded. Haru let the woman be professional, to not connect with her, to not know her, to just be another patient. She studied the packaged bread and watered down soup,Haru set the chain in her lap.

"Honey," the sugar professional voice comforted her, she let the professionalism sweep her away, "What's your name?"

She paused, "H-Haru." She settled, "My name is Haru."

"Your last name, Hun?" The ink pen scribbled, Haru's hands squeezed the bread absentmindedly. It cracked.

"Mira, Haru M-Miura." She corrected herself.

"Do you have trouble remembering your name?" A look into her eyes, Haru's refused to meet the gaze of the nurse. The prominent domineering presence requires the truth, she will not give in.

"No."

"Alright, so, Haru-san, do you know what happened?"

"I'm not sure."

The nurse tried again, "Can you tell me what you know?"

She was careful, Haru noted, not to use the word 'remember'. "I was in the street, and I don't know."

"Before that?"

"Before what?" Her hand entangled themselves with the chained pocket watch, abandoning the bread.

"Do you remember what happened before you were in the hospital? Before from were found on the street." She huffed, a smile still on her face.

Haru paused, she looked out the window. She remembered the game she played when she was little, trying to remember the show she had watched during the long endless commercial breaks. It was like that, she had thought, trying to sweep through the thoughts.

"Ash. There was ash, a-and a girl." She paused, "And skipping ropes. T-he ground was cool. "

"I see." Another scribbled, "what is the date today?"

"April 12."

"Honey, today is May 28th."

Haru paused, her face expressionless. "Oh. I suppose it is."

"Is there anyone I can call? Family, friends?"

"I-I don't think so." Haru gazed at the elm trees, it's leaves fluttered with the cool wind. "What are my injuries?"

"Alright, so your injuries, dear. You have fourteen stitches in your back, three just under your hairline, and four on your left arm. Three cracked ribs, a mild concussion and severe internal bleeding." She stood up, Haru looked at the woman. The clipboard tucked neatly beneath her arms, and a few wisps of hair escaped from the tight bun. "A police man will come to ask you a few questions, okay Hun? Just sit tight, Haru-san."

Haru looked away, her hands sweaty, a small metallic scent wafted through her nostrils. She looked down at the grainy chain in her hands, the metal warm and suck to her skin. Following her hands, she spotted bruises and small cuts that littered her arms. A thin line of dust beneath her fingernails and particles of grey specs as she ran a hand through her tangled hair.

"Ohayo." Thick haired and golden threaded, Haru watched the lanky man, foreign and swaggering steps, make his way into the room. "What do you remember?"

She blinked, he sighed and dug through the pockets of his dark washed jeans to flip open a badge. "Ohayo, Im the policeman that will be asking you a few questions."

He was handsome, very much so. A scar divided his left cheekbone, adding to the magic of the bad boy persona. Haru blushed, she eyed the thin button up and the lack of notebook. Rather, the lack of everything she expected a policeman to have. Sparking blue eyes and a crooked grin, he pulled out a cigarette.

"So, what do you know of what happened?" He leaned against the window, not facing her. "Please try to do the best you can, it will only help us help you catch the perpetrator."

"I-I don't.." She trailed off. It didn't feel right to remember, she tugged at the memory. "There were 2 men."

"Yes? What did they look like?" He turned to look at her questioningly, she noticed the long and thin chains and necklaces that adorned his chest. Several disappeared beneath his shirt.

"I can't remember." Haru slipped the pocket watch beneath her blankets, out of the view of the policeman. She could, remember faintly of the details. The run towards the girl, this bandaged girl, _who was she?_ Haru remembered the bindings and the cold cement floor, the cigars and smell of smoke.

"Alright, so I'm going to ask you a few specific questions." He interrupted her thoughts, eyes serious and the easy going smile seemed more like a mask than ever. "Do you remember the thick layer of ash layering there? Do you remember what happened?"

The moonlight danced on his blonde locks, the dark undertones almost tainted the near angelic look he emitted. Haru recalled the fear, the cold, _cold_ fear. She turned away and shook her head.

"I see." A desolate grin, "Was there a girl with you?"

"I don't know."

"How did you escape, from the room? They were holding you captive, and tied you up with rope."

"I was saved."

"By who?"

"A girl."

"You said you didn't know of a girl."

"I don't remember her."

The tall man shifted, his pace brought him to the front of the bed. Haru looked at him, eyeing the low bulge on his chest connected by a chain. An easy going grin, "Alright then, thank you, I believe your emergency contact will be here shortly. Thank you for your cooperation and you will hear from us shortly. Enjoy your rest, Haru-chan."

She blushed, nodding.

The room's warmth left with him, the moon had just hid behind the clouds, leaving the melancholy atmosphere. Haru's eyes suddenly felt heavy, she drifted and soon fell into her own oblivion.

Of memories.

* * *

**Age 7.**

_A little boy stacked the numbered and lettered blocked neatly on top of each other, his face set in challenge and tuned out from his classmates. Suddenly, a small body crashed into his structure, he cried out._

_"Hey!" Large blue eyes blinked down angrily, tears threatening to fall at the sight of his ruined work, "That was mean! I'm telling!"_

_"Imouto! I-I'm sorry, it was the accident." Large caramel eyes gazed down apologetically, "They pushed me, b-but you can still tell the teacher on m-me."_

_A group of boys giggled from afar, calling out, "Don't make excuses, Tsuna!"_

_"Don't make fun of him!" Tears trailed down his face, "I'm telling! Tsuna, I worked hard on it. I'm telling Kaa-san!"_

_Tsuna's head bowed low, he stood awkwardly in front of his brother. "D-do you need h-help rebuilding it?"_

_"You're gonna ruin it again! Go away." He snubbed, plopping himself down and gathering the blocks again. Tsuna stayed, he sat across from the tears boy and eyed his expression, gathering the blocks that were out of reach._

_Eyeing the numbers, "Itoto, i-is there a p-pattern?"_

_"Yeah." He declared proudly, "Papa said it's called pie! He says I'm a genius for remembering the first five numbers!"_

_"Oh." Tsuna didn't know what to say, he fidgeted with his pants and watched the ground._

_"Tamaki! Come play with us!" The boys called out, they giggled at Tsuna. His brother stood up, a wild grin split his face, tears and structure forgotten._

_"Tsuna, can you please clean this up?" Remembering his proper words, he sprinted off towards the boisterous boys._

_"B-but it's recess." Tsuna started, "I-I want to p-play."_

_Big brown eyes studied the pattern, shifted one block and left the pattern to be found by another. He found a spot under the tree, watching the boys run amuck, without him._

* * *

Disclaimer: I am aware this is a story based off an already created series. I am aware I do not own the canon characters. I am aware of copy rights and plagiarism.

_Bonjour,_

_Thank you for taking the time to read it. Shoot me a message, ask me a question, I guarantee a reply. Criticism, questions, advice, all are welcome. _

_The poll for pairing is currently on my profile. Feel free to contribute. _

_Review, leave a message!_

_**M.**_


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